Time After Time
by musicalpsychology
Summary: Everyone keeps telling her, so why doesn't she see? Max's POV on the Max/Alec issue. Short, random.


Time after time. So everyone's been telling me. They say it almost as often as they claim it's happened, and I'm starting to believe it. Maybe I did the first time, and my front was to deny it. To feign disbelief. No way was Alec always there for me. There was no way in hell that I could even **let him** be there for me. Let him have my back. Sure, another transgenic to work with was great, and he's gotten pretty damn tolerable, but that doesn't mean I want it. It doesn't mean anything. Right?

Original Cindy's talking to me still. I can hear her speaking, and I can see heavily made up lips moving, but I can't take the information in. Not the way I should be, anyway. Because I **am** taking it in. Transgenics are capable of processing more information at any one time than your normal human beings. So I'm listening, yeah. But I can't find myself caring. She's still trying to convince me that Alec's 'my boy', and here I am, spun, trying to figure out if that could possibly be true. Ever. At all. I think this is the first time I've wondered such a thing. I mean.. Alec? Really? How drunk was I? How did I **get** drunk?

Of course, I'm going to deny it. Again. Somehow the fact that he's actually managed to save my ass means nothing. Surely, how grateful I feel late at night when we're stealing from bad guys – yeah, that's nothing to. I don't **like** him. I wish people would stop telling me how I feel. How they think they **know** how I feel. Because I just don't. I don't feel that way. Right? Oh, God, here it comes. An epiphany, and it just has to be of the Alec-liking kind. Great. That's just great. The look in Original Cindy's eyes is telling me that my expression has changed. Is not normal for this kind of conversation. Where are my flying fists of fury? Why aren't I frowning? Why isn't my tone offending Normal's ears all the way over at dispatch? I can't even tell what I'm doing with my eyes anymore. Am I staring? Are they darting? I feel so lost, all of a sudden, and it's not a comforting feeling. I've never felt lost before. Never. It's horrible. I wish it would stop, but the more I stand there with OC in the middle of Jampony, the more I feel lost. And, of course, somebody hates me. So it gets worse. He's here, and I can hear myself squeak. I almost sound like a girl. Ha. What a laugh.

Now I know I'm staring. A part of me really, really wants to speak, but what the hell am I supposed to say? It isn't until my boo gets all up in my face that I find my words. "Yeah, I'm fine." Lie. I'm not fine. From the looks of it, she can see that too. And Alec's closer now, frowning. The perfect emerald of his gaze falls behind slits as he watches me. Why can't I say anything else? This isn't any fun at all. Work isn't mean to be fun, but surely the atmosphere shouldn't be so damn tense. Or maybe it's just me. Am I tense? What am I? Freaking out, that's what. Oh, God, he's talking. I nod slowly, eyes widening as he asks to see me in private. Not the first time, and certainly not the last. Surely, with all of my transgenic and womanly wiles, I can get the point here. It's not going to be anything too hard. It's going to be simple and routine. Maybe he needs a new tv. It could be anything. MAX, STOP FREAKING OUT.

But I can't. I follow him slowly, eyes scanning over every part of his body warily and trying hard not to linger anywhere. I understand it far too much now. I **do** like him. A frown sets into my brow, one I can feel much easier this time around, when I suddenly lash out. He's stopped moving, walked us to a corner in the back of the room. The look on his face says it all. What the hell was I doing that for? He rubs his arm, and I immediately feel bad. I've hit him, again. This time, I'm really not sure why. Usually there's something. But wait. Is there? It's all a blame game, and sometimes the reasons just aren't good enough. Now's come the day when there's nothing to defend my actions. I look at the floor, mutter something incoherent about him deserving it. Again. Time after time, I just keep hitting him. And he keeps having my back. So they keep telling me. God, I get it now. I like him. If Original Cindy knows anything, he likes me too. I hope OC's word is the truth, I really do.


End file.
